The Night Walked In Its Tunica
E
Emmanuel George Cefai
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the night walked in its tunica
dark black funereal staid
like an exiled king by sorrow spent
the night walked in its tunica
over Hastings Gardens:
still the trees without a rustle stood.
The night in its tunica walked
They saw it on the bastions at mid-night
Tiptoeing helter-skelter directionless
And sneaking thief-like. At Dawn
They found its suicide, poor thing.
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